


The Path to Forgiveness

by Bisha



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-15 00:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14780571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisha/pseuds/Bisha
Summary: Clint had no idea who she was when he decided to spare her life, but now that he knew her name, he was glad that he hadn’t kill his favourite engineer’s sister.In his defence, there was no resemblance between the Scot and this girl, so it was basically impossible to relate them immediately. But now that he could really look at her, he could see the little mannerisms that made them so alike





	1. Hazel Blur

**Author's Note:**

> You’ll have to bare with me on this story line here, there’re references to multiple episodes from the MCU, but it’s not a story linked to the MCU arc per se. In fact, Clint doesn’t have a family and Bruce and Nat were never a thing. Also the story includes several characters from AOS, but please do consider that I stopped watching AOS right after season two ended so just pretend everything I’m writing has happened in MCU.  
> I would also like to give the biggest shutout to Luminous Photography whose wonderful [work](%E2%80%9D) inspired this story, please check her work and give her lots of loves at her [ig](%E2%80%9D) or her [fb](%E2%80%9D) since she’s incredible. Tank you again for allowing me to show your work ♡
> 
> Hope you all like it  
> Enjoy

 

Twenty-four hours prior, you would’ve found the archer walking through a hall, Maria Hill right in front of him speaking about a new mission, saying it was so easy, he could go and do it all by himself with no backup.

“Well, if you’re sending _me_ then it’s either too easy or you just trust me too much Hill” – he had told her.

“Oh trust me Barton, it’s very easy” she’d answered with a little smirk.

“Bullshit, I know you trust me with your life” he said playfully and suddenly stopped to prevent bumping into her. She had stopped all of a sudden to turn at him with a very unimpressed, and rather bored look.

“He’ll tell you the rest” she said while opening the door at the end of the corridor.

“Always a pleasure Hill” said the archer while passing over her and into the room, walking straight up to a couch in the middle of it

< _I should be sleeping right now > _he thought a bit defeated, but smiled bright when he saw his friend plastered on the wall.

The door closed behind him.

“Hey there asshole” Clint smiled to the projection on the wall.

“Is this how you’re going to say **_hello_ ** to me every time you see me?” he was dragged out by a very stressed voice.

“Yeah. That’s the short for < _I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were alive, you stupid son of a bitch >_” Clint spitted half serious, half joking while he spread himself in the couch.

“How longer do I have to repeat that I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before?”

“Oh, well let me think” he answered sarcastically “Like … I don’t know… FOREVER!?” he yelled, this time not being able to hide his laugh. “Oh and that’s just me. Because when Nat hears about this, she’ll make you wish you were really dead Coulson” he added with a malefic grin.

“Ugh… Don’t even remind me of that, please” Phil answered with a sigh and an – already – defeated look. “Well, to business. Please take the file from the desk and read it. That’s your mission” he stated composing himself and bringing the seriousness back into the room.

“Reading?” Clint was, indeed, surprised “Why didn’t you call Banner then?” he laughed.

“You moron… The mission is inside” Phil snapped.

< _Jeez… someone’s a bit on the verge > _the archer bit his bottom lip reading every word carefully, trying not to piss his friend since he really seemed all stressed out, face looking like he didn’t know what sleeping was anymore.

“Shit Phil, Hill said this was easy...” he said while reading the details one more time. “But _this_ , this is fucking child’s play _director_ , this is outrageous. Consider me offended” He added while pointing the file to Phil’s projection. The latter sighed running his hands through his face, he looked so done.

“Look man, I know, but there’s _literally_ no one else to send there right now and it’s kind of urgent. I promise I’ll compensate” he said with a persuasive smile.

“Wait, _literally_ no one else?” Clint sighed and ran a hand through his hair “Well, then we’re even more fucked up than I thought” he stated with a grin while turning back to leave the room.

“I mean, if Hawkeye is our last resource, damn we’re fucked up!” Phil shouted laughing with his arms up.

“ _Fuuuuuck you_ ” Clint sang while pointing his middle finger at the projection behind him as he left the room. He left happy as he managed to get his friend to laugh, but also worried about him. He always seemed on the verge of losing it, stress coming out of his every pore, even through a projection. The archer’s heart was heavy with worry and he figured it wasn’t just because of his friend, he had a bad filling in his belly he couldn’t get rid of, but he disregarded it anyway, his new mission taking all of his attention.

\--

Not even 20 minutes later he was being dropped over a mile from the mission’s place to not call any unwanted attention. The mission was simple, just as Hill had said, get in, pick up and get out as fast as possible. He couldn’t fuck this up… right?

“Almost a fucking mile away the goddamn place” he hissed under his breath while running.

When he finally made it to the target place he felt truly offended. It was just an old warehouse guarded by no more than ten armed guys – mercenaries of some sort he pictured – and he knew no one was inside the warehouse, well, he hoped no one was inside. The only thing he had to do was take down the armed guys, get into the damn warehouse, pick the stupid Stark equipment that had been stolen from the Sokovia disaster and get out. It couldn’t be that much of a mess.

Well… it could actually be kind of messy…

\--

Five minutes after arriving he had already settled himself at the edge of the mercenaries’ perimeter and was aiming to take a third guy out when something appearing out of nowhere caught his attention. He saw a blur, a dark blur moving gracefully and fatally. A blur that had come out of the trees just a second ago but had already taken three men down with so much elegance Clint felt like applauding there and then.

When the blur finally stopped, Clint got completely still and his blood ran cold … A pair of hazel eyes were staring at him. How was he even spotted from that distance? Were they looking at him? Was he going to be attacked? Was he considered an enemy? Should he shoot?

Well, there was no time to find out really and since he labelled his observant as ‘dangerous’ he just drew an arrow and aimed.

But he didn’t lose…

She had put her arms up and risen up slowly; showing him her hands as saying – or making him think – that she wasn’t a threat. Well, to him.

Her face unreadable, no expressions on it, it sent a cold shiver down Clint’s spine. She just stared waiting for him to let her move, to let her know he wasn’t going to kill her as soon as she moved. His mind was a turmoil, he didn’t even know why but he had the feeling that they were working for the same side, so he just nodded at that stranger and shot to a guy that was running towards her. She nodded back and ran into the warehouse, out of his line of sight.

It took Clint just about a minute to take down the rest of the mercenaries. In fact, he was about to take the last one down when he heard a gunshot from inside the structure.

 _< Shit>_ he cursed mentally as he couldn’t remember if that girl had a gun with her or not, a few seconds, and a man down after, he was running inside the warehouse as fast as his legs let him.

Once inside, the first thing he saw was blood… a puddle of blood, a Beretta next to it and a body… a huge man’s body.

Not that Clint was too small, but this dude was big, Steve Roger’s big, he could only frown at the mental image of close combat with someone that big. Don’t get him wrong, it would’ve been easy, but just so unnecessarily tiring.

Anyway, if that girl had done that, he would have to be extra careful around her, especially since he realized that the guy’s neck had been snapped. No gun wound on him.

So, what the fuck was the gunshot he had just heard outside and where did all that blood came from?

 _< Oh well… yeah, that explains it.>_ He thought when his sight followed the blood trace and _she_ finally came into his range of vision. There was a tiny hole on her jacket, on her right shoulder blade, but a very thick trail of blood coming out of it. He could hear her unsteady breathing and his guts screamed him to help her, to hold her, to assist her. But instead he just stood a few feet away and aimed an arrow at her. She was a sight; straight pitch black hair to her shoulders and a beautiful pale skin covered in dirt, blood, sweat and tears.

She was kneeling, her left hand completely bloodstained strongly pressing at the right side of her collarbone.

 _< Fuck, the bullet went through.> _Clint thought at the sight of her wound. And then he saw her operating some artefact with her right hand, well, she was trying ‘cause the thing was completely broken. That’s when he heard her cursing under her breath. Making him stiffed himself up since he had started to loosen his arrow down not noticing.

“Are you going to stare at me all the _goddamn_ time or are you going to help me!?” she yelled at him right before bending forward with a loud, painful sound. Clint moved on instinct this time, putting his bow down by his side and reaching out for her. “Not me! …. I’m fine… it’s _that_ ” she signed with her head, and that’s when the archer finally understood what he was there for.

It was massive. A huge metal piece of shit, or at least that was to Clint.

A full piece of the Veronica armour, Clint pictured it could be a hand, or what was left of it, because of the reactor in it.

“And how the hell was _I_ supposed to take _that_ back all by myself?” he complained out loud. Making sure his annoyance was plastered on his voice and face.

“Back?” the girl said as her eyes widen with surprise as realization hit her “N-No!” she yelled taking Clint by the collar of his jacket, a pained look crossing her face as she moved, but it was quickly replaced by a cold fierceness. “You can’t!” she screamed, a tear running down her cheek, pain caused, Clint assumed. “You won’t” she ended. How was it possible that even showing weakness – to Clint’s eyes – she was threatening him. Even when she was wounded and knew that if she had to fight him she’d probably lose, she was giving him the fiercer and deathliest looks he’d ever witness – except for Nat’s obviously.

He was starting to like her. She had some balls.

“Well” he said grinning calmly, losing her grip on his jacket and standing next to her “What do _you_ propose to do with _that_ then?” he said tilting his head to the device.

“Blow it” she said with what he thought it would have been a smirk, but was painfully twisted and accompanied by some more tears.

“Blow it!?… Well, you’ll see girl… I can’t do that” he crouched by her side and scratched his forehead. “I have to take that shit back”

“Name’s Emilia” she stared at him defiant. “And for the last time, you’re not taking that crap back to your psycho friend” she spat the words with so much hatred that Clint could almost see the venom come out.

But that was enough to trigger his curiosity.

“Wait” he said shaking his head “What!?”

His thoughts abruptly interrupted by the sound of roaring engines.  

“Ah, Fuck” he muttered as he stood up and turned to face the building’s entrance and then turned to look at the metal pile and then to the wounded girl at his feet. By the sound of it they had like five minutes to take Tony’s toy and get out of there. But how?

< _Shit Barton, think. What to do? What would Nat do? >_

“Please…” his thoughts were completely stopped by the sound of her voice.

“P-please… just blow it” she wasn’t looking at him anymore, she was looking at the floor, blood running down her right arm, her hand clutching. “Leave me here if you want, but please, just… destroy it”

Clint looked at the metal pile one more time.

Three minutes.

 _< Well, that’s not what I’d do… asshole.>_ Natasha’s voice peeked in his head.

 _< Well, one of us has to be the dumb one, right?> _He mentally answered his friend.

He smiled, sighed and reached to … ehm… what was her name? Well, fuck it.

She couldn’t understand anything of what Clint was doing, and that was probably because she had been bleeding out.

“Ooooookay” he said as he slowly passed her right arm behind his shoulders to support her weight “Let’s get out of here”

“B-b-but… The reac- “she was just starting to whine when Clint cut her off, clearly pissed.

“I know! Damn it! I’ll blow it! Just let me take you out of here first!” he huffed.

_< Damn, she’s a hateful creature. We could still leave her here.>_

He took her to the emergency exit in the back of the building as fast as he could and leaned her against a wall. He took two of his special arrows and aimed the entrance.

In the moment he heard the vehicles’ engines stop outside the warehouse he released the first arrow that got stuck to the huge wooden gate and immediately after, he fired the second one to the remains of what once was a massive armour.

Once the arrows hit their targets Clint turned with a wide grin to face a very confused girl.

“I thought you’d said you were blowing it” she almost barked at him.

“Special arrows” he pointed out while taking her weight in his shoulders again. “Now shut up”

The arrows Barton had used were his special bomb arrows, so a button from his quiver pressed and… _BOOM!_

These and every single one of his toys special courtesy of his favourite engineer and Sci-Tech expert. God he loved that kid. Just when Clint thought he couldn’t invent a new kind of arrow the guy would surprise him with something amazingly useful. Well, at least until the Hydra thing happened.

Once they were far enough, he pressed the button on his quiver, they heard the explosion in the distance and Clint smiled pleased with himself.  They stopped to take care of her wound when the archer felt it was safe enough. So he made her sit whit her back against a tree and took her jacket off as delicate as possible to have a better look at the injury, once he did that, he took his own leather jacket off to tear apart a piece of his shirt and tie it around her shoulder.

He was very impressed that she hadn’t passed out already and that when he, accidentally, touched the wound she only shut her eyes and pressed her lips tightly. A small recall of his old wounds and he knew how much that hurt, he could still see himself cursing loudly, trying to take his friend’s hand off the wound. He had passed out within minutes after taking his first bullet, but here she was, awake and alert. Clint was surprised, to say the least.

“Sorry” he apologized with a worrying look.

“I’m fine… not my first.” she said after a moment, relaxing her eyebrows and opening her eyes again so she could see Clint in the eye. The archer nodding slowly, chewing the information.

“Thanks” she said calmly “for taking me out… you didn’t have to.” Her features softened, her overall expression still poker, but gratitude lurking its way out from her eyes.

“Not big deal… ahmmm, the guy missed the artery and the bone’s not broken either” he shrugged “It’s not that bad really, but thank me when you’re out of the hospital” he added.

“No hospitals” she said shaking her head to both sides and trying to stand up but failing. So when Clint catched her he asked:

“Why not?”

“Can’t” is all she said and well, he wasn’t going to force her into telling him why. After all, he understood – probably better than any one – that there are certain things you just don’t talk about. He leaned her against the tree once again and took a step back to face her.

“So, where to?” he asked crossing his arms at his chest.

“Home?” she answered tentatively.

“K, home will be” he stated smiling “Now… **_how_** princess?” he answered lifting an eyebrow to the obvious lack of transport and his obliviousness regarding where exactly home was.

“Not princess, nor girl” she sighed exhausted “It’s Emilia, and my ride is a mile east from the warehouse… you clown” she added grinning with her eyes shut.

 _< Emilia_. _So that’s her name_ > he hoped to not forget it again.

“Great…” he clapped his hands together “that’s half a mile from here… I think” he said almost cheerfully.

She just rolled her eyes.

 _< Oh, then she likes to do that too… great.> _He thought as he pictured Nat smirking at their resemblance.

“Let **_me_** the thinking” she said “You can carry me and I’ll lead the way” she added with a pained smile.

“And what if you pass out?” he asked pretending to be scared.

“Then you can consider us both completely fucked” she said with a wide grin.

Clint was really starting to feel some kind of affection for her, protective old brother kind of afection.

He was starting to believe that every time he hadn’t kill people he was supposed to; he’d find a friend. It had happened twice before, so… why not now?


	2. Shooting Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had a plan, well, at least he thought he had a plan, like 12% of a plan. He was very proud of it. He wasn’t usually the one making the plans or following them. He was more used to ‘go with the flow’ and kill anything walking.
> 
> Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading  
> Please feel free to comment on anything you want and let me know if you find any typos or big mistakes since English is not my first language.  
> I appreciate every opportunity to improve ♡

“Well, when you said you had a ride, I was hoping something a little less noisy and a lot more... **_car_** ” Clint said with judgement at the sight of a black motocross bike leaning against a tree. He really wasn’t in the mood to ride a bike, his shoulders ached from supporting Emilia’s weight and it was going to be a mess with the quiver and the bow.

“Well, getting shot wasn’t exactly in my plans Mr. fussy” she said back. Her eyes were shut and her skin getting paler and colder every second it passed, droplets of sweat all across her forehead and in the bridge of her nose. Concentrating on her breathing rhythm.

“Ok, but how’s that **_you_** get to call me names but I can’t?” he whined for, maybe, the tenth time.

“Well, it’s not like you’ve told me your name, is it?” she finally faced him answering with a look like she was pointing something obvious.

“Wait” he said confused as he helped her rest against a close tree. “You don’t know my name?”

All he got was a shake of her head and a mute “no” escaping her lips.

“But back in the warehouse you did mention that I have a ‘ _psycho friend’_. Remember?” he added while crossing his arms at his chest and staring at her. “I don’t buy that you don’t know me. Bullshit”

“I never said I don’t know who you are” she answered as she ran the back of her left hand through her sweaty forehead red-staining it all and pressing it right back against her wound. “I know you work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and I know you’re an Avenger.” She listed tiredly “I just don’t remember your name, and I’m not calling you ‘ _Hawkeye’_ ” He smiled fondly.

“Hmmmmm” he hummed in understanding “Barton” he said crouching in front of her and checking her bandage briefly. “And we’re not taking the bike”

“Why not!?” she asked almost shocked. The quick move making her fist her hands and whisper a curse. Clint sighed.

“Too complicated” he said as he stood and took his bow off his back.

“How so?”

< _Oh, come on! really!? > _He thought unbelievingly. If he could see why, then it was pretty obvious.

 _< It must be the bled out> _He comforted himself.

“Look, you’re hurt” he started

“No shit, Sherlock” she interrupted him with an unimpressed grin.

“Shut up” he commanded and she rolled her eyes “I use the quiver in my back and the bow too genius, and you’re hurt… badly” he stressed “How do you expect to be able to hold on to me with just one hand and a quiver and bow in between?” he asked with his eyebrows raised and his hands facing the sky, like everything was so obvious.

“I can do it” she muttered avoiding his gaze. He ran his hands through his face and his hair, so tired. This is exactly why he refuses to train agents.

 _< Why do they always come stubborn?>_ he wondered as he took a deep breath and started checking his arrows.

“Bullshit” he muttered back, not looking at her. “I said I’d take you home and that’s what I’m doing” he stood and returned his quiver to his back, he was looking at her again “It’s too dangerous if you pass out and we’re on a bike and I’m not leaving my weapons behind, they were a gift”

“So what do you propose we do?” she asked as she straightened up, left hand still pressing the wound.

“ ** _We_** … nothing” he answered holding her by the shoulders softly and putting her back against the tree. “ ** _I_** am getting us a new ride” he added with a wide smile and started running away before she could say anything about it.

< _I really hope those bastards haven’t left the damn warehouse yet > _

He had a plan, well, at least he thought he had a plan, like 12% of a plan. He was very proud of it. He wasn’t usually the one making the plans or following them. He was more used to ‘go with the flow’ and kill anything walking.

Sort of.

 _< ok, so… just take a car, destroy the others and run over anyone you can> _he repeated himself as he ran passed the trees _< Smooth Hawk… that should be enough.> _he praised himself.

As soon as he got back to the edge of the perimeter he started surrounding it to spot someone somewhere.

“Shit” he muttered as he hid behind a tree at the sudden approach of two men.

 _“Sr.”_ said the youngest looking one – and easier to kill, he thought – “ _We tracked a heat sign about a mile east from here… two agents are on their way there now”_

 _< Oh no, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck> _Clint over cursed. His blood running cold with realization, he was going to act faster than expected.

“ _Just two agents?”_ asked the other idiot.

< _Agents? Who the fuck are these guys? > _he asked himself as he scrutinized the place in search of more ‘agents’.

“ _Well, yes… the sign is not that strong and it’s static so we thought-“_

 _“You… thought?”_  Stated almost gloomily the highest ranking mercenary as Clint counted eighteen assholes in the surroundings, three black military jeeps and two bikes. _“Oh god…”_ added the asset with a long sigh _“Do I have to do everything myself?_ ”

He finished the sentence, took the gun out of his holster and shot the guy previously talking to him in the head.

“Shit” Clint whispered, hiding completely behind the tree, abruptly surprised by the gunshot.

 _“Ok let’s go!”_ the killer called out “ _We were late and the object is useless now, but we have a sign”_ he kept yelling at the bunch of retarded hearing _“So, I want a three men team with me and the rest can go back to base… NOW!”_ he finished and everyone started to move.

So did Clint.

He began by taking down and hiding four ‘agents’ that were guarding the bikes so he could take one and follow the team that was going in Emilia’s way.

So when the teams split he started the chase of the shooting bastard.

The bike was no silent so he was spotted quite soon and he saw himself obliged to act extemporaneously. He dodged the incoming fire the best he could, but got scratched by a bullet on his left side, he kept going anyway, hissing the pain away, he couldn’t let them get to the ride’s point.

 _< This is a really stupid idea… one of your dumbest honestly>_ he heard his red haired friend saying in his head.

< _Yeah, I know >_ he answered to his own thought quite defeated, he had no other plan.

That’s when he got as close as he could to the jeep and threw two ‘agents’ off the fucking car so he could get in. The rest was a piece of cake because the remaining ‘agent’ wasn’t very good at close combat, like, at all.

< _Pfff… now anyone gets called ‘agent’ > _he thought as he passed an arrow through his chest. Now the only one left was the shooting bastard driving the car.

Clint had to be dodging his shots most of the time he fought the other guy, earning some more scratches on the way. At one moment Clint even yelled at him.

“Hey! Would you stop that!? I’m trying to kill your guy back here!” he had screamed in frustration.

Now there was only one left to kill and he could go back to rest to the Tower. Clint jumped to the passenger’s seat and before he could even throw a punch, the shooting bastard shouted as he smiled:

“You S.H.I.E.L.D. guys are always spoiling my fun!” 

“Yeah, well, your fun’s kind of crazy sick so…” Clint cut him off as he took him by the collar of his jacket, being able to finally look at the idiot’s face.

 _< Hold on!> _Clint stopped surprised _< I know this asshole… where-?>_

“Well, that’s my cue to leave” he said taking advantage of Clint’s surprise to punch him in the stomach, making him go breathless. “Please send Coulson regards from Grant Ward agent Barton” he added with a smile right before jumping off the car and getting lost among the trees.

“That fucking bastard!” Clint coughed hatefully as he took over the jeep’s wheel. For a moment he considered the idea of turning back to kill him, but he dismissed it at the thought of a wounded girl waiting for him.

Shit, was she even there anymore? Was she ok?

He had completely forgotten that two guys had already been sent to her position.

< _Oh shit,_ _please be alive > _Clint kept repeating, almost like a prayer. He couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else dying on him.

Not again.


	3. Fitz?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the irony...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this far, thank you, it means a lot.
> 
> Enjoy!

“You need to stop bringing people in as if they were stray kittens Barton!” were the words of a very pissed agent Hill towards the archer.

“First of all Hill, I’d never bring kittens, I’d bring puppies” he responded tiredly “And second, you need to _stop_ saying that as if I’d take people in every single day” he added “Honestly! I’ve done it just _one_ fucking time and it’s not like any of you’d regret it” he darted to the brunette.

“Just once!?” Hill spitted in an unbelieving – rather accuser – tone “It’s been twice. Three with this” she corrected him.

“Oh Hill come on!” he whined “You _know_ that’s not true. It’s been just Nat.” he defended himself. Honestly, he was starting to be pissed. What was the point of all this? Because he really needed to be a point for all of this.

“Thor” the brunette said droningly not even looking at the archer.

Clint turned to look at her almost in slow motion and not bothering to hide the surprise on his face.

“You fucking kidding me, right? _Coulson_ never made the call. That’s not on me!” He started saying but saw himself losing his temper mid-sentence. “Shit Hill, you weren’t even there!” that was it. He was pissed. Why were they even talking about that? He tried to calm himself as he crossed his arms to his chest and turned to look back the window of the little room in front of him.

“However…” the beautiful spy said with a smile on her face, men were always so easy to piss off. “Coulson will want to talk to you about it. You failed the mission after all” she added as she started walking down the hall they were standing on.

“Yeah… I know” the blonde responded with a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair and suddenly a question popped out his mouth before he could even think of it “Do you know who she is?” he said staring to a void.

“Of course I know, we know who everyone is” she answered and stopped walking to fully face the archer as he encouraged her to keep talking by raising his eyebrows. She just sighed and answered. “Fitz… Emilia Fitz. She was SHIELD’s” she added “Specialist, level 4, but she disappeared after D.C… we thought her dead”

The archer’s eyebrows were almost touching with confusion and surprise.

“Wait…Fitz as in Sci-Tech boy Fitz?” he asked Hill crossing his arm to his chest again.

“Yeah, his sister” she said lightly and turned around in order to leave the place once and for all “Oh, and Barton…” she called him out “Go get your side checked” she added before walking completely out the infirmary.

“Yes ma’am” the archer whispered as he got closer to the window that separated him from the small room in front of him and the girl inside it sitting on the gurney. She had her eyes shut and her lips fully pressed together as her wound was being checked by some doctors. “ _Emilia Fitz_ ” he almost sighed the name as he looked at her a last time before going to look after his own wounds.

 

 

\--

 

 _< Please be alive>_ was Clint’s thought right before getting to her, and when he finally did he could feel nothing but relieve at the sight of her – hardly – standing next to two corpses.

As soon as he approached her, she turned defiant and tried to raise a knife with her right hand but failed at the obvious amount of pain that caused her. He immediately put his hands up.

“Hey it’s me” he said gently “It’s ok. _You’re_ ok” he added taking a few steps towards her “No one else is coming, It’s just me” he reached her just in time to catch her as her legs gave up. Clint couldn’t even explain how she was still awake and had managed to kill two guys in those conditions, but he was glad she had.

By the look of it, it had been a messy fight and he could tell by the amount of new cuts on her arms and the way her wound looked - completely open and bloody again – that it wasn’t because of her moving to fight, but because one of those assholes must’ve pressed the injury to immobilize her, shitty move by the way, even for him.

“Th-they’re-“ she mumbled shocked a few times before passing out as Clint helped her into the car.

Once she was buckled up in the passenger’s seat he stormed to the driver’s seat and started driving as fast as he could. He remembered her telling that she couldn’t go to a hospital so the only place to take her was the Tower’s infirmary, but he needed to let them know he was taking someone hurt in, they needed to be ready to help her. But how?

The mission was supposed to go so smoothly that there was no backup nor extraction team available for him and that also meant no need for direct comms to HQ.

 _< Fuck, there has to be a way>_ he thought angrily gripping tightly on the wheel and right when he was starting to get really frustrated, the memory of a connective device hit his thoughts. It was something Tony had given everyone in the tower to be able to contact Jarvis – well, now Friday – and it was just perfect. He never thought he was going to need it but he was really glad that he had put it in his jacket just in case.

< _I love toys > _he thought relieved.

“Friday?” he called out as he turned it on.

“Agent Barton, hello. How are you?” the programme greeted him.

“Fine, I’m fine” he said quickly “Look, I need some help over here. Could you please tell someone at the infirmary that I’m taking in someone? Woman, hmmmm… early twenties, clean perforating 9 mm. shot wound right shoulder, several cuts and blood lost”

“…”

“Friday?” he asked at the lack of response.

“The infirmary has been notified agent Barton” Friday finally answered and a relieved sigh left Clint’s chest “Please inform time of arrival”

“15 minutes top” he assured pushing the throttle a bit further.

“Should I inform agents Hill and Coulson of your status?”

Clint took a moment to think of it. He knew they were going to find out anyway but he just didn’t want them to know right away. He needed to think what he was going to say for taking in someone he didn’t know and destroying Stark’s toy instead of taking it back.

“Can you tell them once I get there?” he decided.

“Of course agent.”

“Great. 15 minutes” he said and hit the throttle.

 

Exactly 14 minutes and 43 seconds later, Clint was parking the black jeep in the garage of the Avenger’s Tower where a group of 5 trauma doctors were ready to receive him and treat Emilia’s wound. As soon as he killed the engine he went to the passenger’s seat to help getting her out of the car.

“She’s been slipping in and out” he informed the doctors as he took her in his arms and transported her from the car’s seat to the gurney waiting for her. The gurney started rolling inside the building and in the moment his arms lost contact with her body her eyes snapped open.

She was completely disorientated and dizzy, her body almost numb, but she could hear people around and as shapes started to take form for her she could tell she was surrounded by doctors. Suddenly she was alert. Shit, she couldn’t go to a hospital. It was too risky, she needed to stay low, out of the radar. She tried to reincorporate herself but a throbbing pain stopped her and a pained cry escaped her lips. She felt pressure at the place where the pain was coming from.

< _What the hell!?_ > She needed to get out of there immediately, desperation creeped on her and there was no time to be in pain, her mind running a hundred miles per second trying to figure out a way out, her eyes filling with tears of pure despair. She was terrified. Last time she had woken up in an unknown place surrounded by strangers it hadn’t end up well for her.

Suddenly she froze at the memory of her wound. She had been shot. A light met her eyes as a doctor checked her pupils and she was dazzled for a second. She felt everything happening so fast around her. The memory of the blonde archer peeking abruptly, had he come back? Was he there too? Was he alright? There was no time to answer that.

If she didn’t do something soon, then it would be too late.

That’s when Clint saw it, well, more like when he heard it. The sound of metal hitting the floor and then a scream, he ran to the room where the disturbance came from. Her room.

“Let me go” he heard as soon as he reached the doorway.

 _< What the fuck!? What’s this girl made of?>_ his face couldn’t hide his surprise. She was standing – well if you can call _that_ stand – in the corner of the room with a scalpel in her right hand and the left one pressed to her collarbone. She was gasping, badly. Her body about to give up, her words weren’t louder than a whisper. She was wrecked.

“Hey” Clint said slowly taking a step towards her with his hands up but stopping at the sight of her lifting up the scalpel in a warning not to get any closer. “Ok, I’m not moving” he obeyed, staring right into her eyes, reassuringly.

“I said no hospital” she said voiceless, her words were just air escaping her lungs and if Clint hadn’t been wearing his hearing aids he wouldn’t have heard her.

“This in no hospital” he explained slowly, confusion growing on her face “This is an infirmary…  you’re in the Avenger’s Tower”

He saw her expression changing completely, going from defiant and determined to incredulous and then amused in just one second. She dropped the scalpel to the floor and started laughing dryly. He couldn’t understand a thing.

 _< Oh, the irony>_ she thought as she made her way back up to the gurney. 


	4. The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I died there too... I just wasn’t lucky enough to leave this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter so I'm sorry, but it's a sort of transition :))
> 
> Enjoy!

5 hours.

She had been laying down on a gurney for 5 hours.

There were no more shapes to make up in the ceiling, she was sure.

< _From all the places in the world_ > she kept repeating in her head.

The doctor had been in her room not an hour ago for a quick revision and she had seen Barton and Hill through her window talking about something, he seemed very pissed for a moment. She really hoped he wasn’t in any trouble because of her.

Her pain was gone, morphine kicking in hard and even though her body and brain were exhausted, she couldn’t get herself to rest. She didn’t want to, the mere thought of sleeping terrified her, surrounded by the people she considered her very enemies. No way she was closing an eye.

She had been through X-rays, CT scans, blood transfusions and a minor procedure to close her wound and cuts and all that while being completely awake. After Barton told her where she was, she had just agreed to receive medical assistance, but refused to be put to sleep at any moment. After all, a little more pain was nothing to her. She just wanted to be strong enough to find Barton, say thanks and leave. There was still a lot to do.

“You’re awake” were the words that took her out of her mind. “I thought you’d be sleeping.” Said the archer as he sat down in the chair next to the gurney. She could tell he was tired and pained as he was leaning all his weight on his right side.

“I won’t sleep in here” she said a bit more serious than intended. “You’re hurt” she stated, a sorry look on her face, like an apology leaving her eyes.

Clint looked rather surprised from her noticing, but just smiled kindly “This? … Is nothing, I’m fine” he smirked.

Emilia just closed her eyes and faced the ceiling again, she was smiling too.

“Yeah, I know, I’m fine too… about to leave actually” she stated looking at the Avenger again.

There were those hazel eyes again… his heart skipped a beat.

“You can’t leave” he said accommodating himself in the chair once again “You’re pretty bad kiddo, you won’t last much out there” he sighed out crossing his arms to his chest breaking eye contact.

“Oh trust me… I’ve been worse… _far_ worse” she smiled gloomily, her eyes drifting away, as if they were traveling back in time. Taking her somewhere awful.

Clint felt somewhat awkward, like he wanted to make so many questions but didn’t know where to start. Did she want to talk about it? Did _he_ want to know about it? What was she doing at the warehouse? Did tech boy Fitz know she was alive? How did she survive DC/Hydra mess? Why hadn’t she come back to SHIELD? … Oh boy, so many questions.

“Barton!” he heard and snapped out of his mental interrogatory, apparently she had been talking to him.

“W-What?” he asked meeting her eyes.

“Did you tell him?” she repeated a bit exasperated.

“Did I tell what? To whom?” Lost. He was lost, not even a minute zoning out and he didn’t know what was going on. Were they talking about someone?

“Did you tell my brother I’m here?” she continued “Did you tell him I’m alive?”

< _Oh_ > one less question.

“Hmmmmm… No… no, your brother’s on the field. Can’t reach him yet” he pointed out leaning forward and putting his hands together. “We’ll tell him later” and they really weren’t, but he just wanted to see her reaction, know her response.

“Don’t” she replied facing away, her lips tightly pressed.

< _well, seems logical_ > he thought to himself < _I mean, if she didn’t tell him before, why now?_ >

“What?” he kept going

“Don’t tell him” she added still facing away, she seemed really troubled “He doesn’t know… I don’t want him to know” she finally was facing him again “Please…trust me, is better this way” she said voice cracking mid-sentence and eyes filling up with tears. As she cleared her throat Clint caught himself pouting.

“Can I ask why?” Clint was testing his luck here, pushing a bit further from what he considered appropriate to ask.

“You can ask, but I can choose not to answer.” She replied, composed again. Well, at least he had tried.

“Fair enough” he finished giving her a wide reassuring smile.

He had just stood up to leave when the door in the tiny room opened and director Coulson walked in.

“Phil?” he said surprised “What are you doing here, man?” they hadn’t seen each other in what seemed like ages, and he thought his friend was way too busy to even allow himself stepping out of the field or at least that’s what he was told.

Soon the blonde realized Coulson hadn’t even looked in his direction and was staring straight to Emilia, the most conflicted face he’d ever seen on his friend. When he glanced at her he felt the dire need of his weapon, a chill went down his spine and his blood ran cold, just like when he first saw her. She was deadly, he knew that much. And if looks could kill, Coulson would’ve dropped dead right there and then, this time for real.

“Agent Barton please go and finish your mission report, thank you.” Phil said still staring at her and just moving so the exit wasn’t blocked.

Clint glanced at the two of them one more time and walked towards the door, but stopped right next to Coulson and whispered. “If I were you I’d bring the Hulk to watch my back and not die, _director_ ” and exited the room.

The tension was terrible, almost tangible in that small room. Coulson gave one step towards the gurney.

“Don’t you dare get any closer” she warned him clenching her teeth. Coulson wasn’t really surprised, but there was an obvious sadness all over his face.

“Em… you’re hurt. You have to keep your energy…” he spoke fondly, almost like when a parent speaks to their child.

“I’ve killed people with way less energy” she smirked viciously “Don’t test me Coulson, or you might end up dead for real this time” she added, her voice almost a whisper, but it didn’t need to be any louder to have the older agent’s palm sweating nervously.

“Agent Fi-“ he started rumbling

“ _I’M NO AGENT!_ ” she cut him off shouting this time. “ _YOU LEFT US! REMEMBER!? YOU LEFT US TO DIE WHEN DC HAPPENED! ALL OF YOU! YOU THOUGHT ME DEAD AND DIDN’T EVEN LOOK FOR ME!_ ” she was shouting loudly, her teeth still pressing together as tears went down her face, her face crimson red, veins popping out her temples. She started getting out of the bed and Coulson didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want her to get hurt, but he didn’t want to die either.

She got out of the bed and stood – she stumbled a bit but straighten herself up right away – yanked the wires and IVs off her arms and walked towards Coulson grabbing him by the collar, she saw some agents running towards her room through the window, but no one came in. Just a second passed and the elder’s head was hitting the wall. She kept him there, his feet a tiny bit elevated from the floor.

“ _I ROTTED IN A FUCKING PIT FOR TWO YEARS! YOU THINK NOW I’M HURT!? THIS IS NOTHING! NOTHING COMPARED TO THE THINGS I LIVED THERE! THE THINGS THEY DID TO ME!_ ” she was still crying, but Coulson could tell these tears came from a different place, not from anger anymore, but from pain. Pure and raw pain. Her grip on him loosen slightly, sobs making their way out of her.

“I wouldn’t have cared; you know?” she said softly this time, her grip on him loosing way more. “I wouldn’t have cared that you gave up on me… I would’ve come back.” Her voice cracking with the confession “I would’ve come back if I hadn’t heard what Ward did to Leo… What _you_ let him do to my brother” her grip was strong again and she pushed his body against the wall one more time. Her arm burning with pain as she felt the stitches popping from her wound, but it didn’t matter.

“He almost killed Leo, Coulson. He almost killed him and you let him go. And not to mention what you did to my team.” She finally released him, but he didn’t move at all. She started walking from side to side while she stared at him hatefully, just like a feline.

“Did you know I still have nightmares about that? Nightmares that you and all the other bastards that left us to our luck should be having! Because it’s on _you_.” She dead stopped and pointed at him. “All our deaths are on you…” she said as all expressions left her face, no more tears, no more sobs, just a dead glare that had Coulson swallowing his own bile out of guilt as she kept going

“Because I died there too Coulson. I just wasn’t lucky enough to leave this world.”

Maybe for the first time ever, Coulson was speechless. There was nothing that could be said that would ease her pain any bit right there. Not a thing came into his mind but guilt and an incredible urge to beg on his knees for her forgiveness. He knew it wasn’t all his fault, and he knew that by ‘ _you’_ she meant ‘SHIELD’, but he couldn’t help to think that it was all on him.

SHIELD had let her down in more ways than anyone could imagine and they thought everything was just going to go back to normal? No way.

He knew there was nothing else to be said so he walked to the exit, but he stopped with his hand on the knob.

“Phil” she said calmly. He didn’t dare to turn “If you tell Leo or my parents I’m alive, I swear to God I’ll kill you before and more painfully than I have planned”

His whole body shivered to the warning as he exited the room.


	5. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dampness, she could feel the dampness everywhere, its smell and coldness.   
> The frigid touch of concrete against her face.   
> The shackles and chains around her wrists.  
> The sound of men approaching her cell.  
> She woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing anymore, I just need to get this story out of my brain but don't know how exactly haha  
> funny, right?  
> whAtever, to what brings us here
> 
> Enjoy! :))

When Coulson left the room, the first thing he saw was an agent unconscious on the ground and the other being held against the wall by Clint.

“What are you doing?” he asked running a hand through his face, he felt exhausted.

“Sorry” replied the blonde losing the grip on his colleague “I just felt like you two needed to talk… in private.” He added patting the agent’s shoulder and smiling at him like nothing happened.

“Yeah, sure” was the vague answer from the director, who immediately motioned for his agent to pick up his partner and get out of there. Clint leaned against the wall and once the pair were out of there he asked.

“Well… what was _that_ all about?” All smiles erased from his face now, full serious.

“I thought I’d asked you to go fill the report” said the director and started walking away from the room, towards the elevator. Clint followed him.

“Oh no, no no no no… I’m not filling shit until you tell me what the hell was that all about” he stated standing in Coulson’s way.

“Look Barton, I don’t _have_ to tell you anything, ok? Now, get out of my way and go back to your little agent things, alright?” he barked out.

< _Wooooow_ > Coulson had never spoken to him like that, he had never looked down on him before, it really struck him and the only thing that stopped him from punching his friend’s face was the shock it caused him, hurt written all over the archer’s face.

Coulson pressed the elevator button and the doors opened instantly, but before getting in he sighed and turned to Clint.

“Hey, I’m sorry man… it’s just that…. I just can’t tell you about it, ok? Just let it be.” He said and got into the elevator.

“Don’t worry man” Clint replied with a fake smile and a shrug “If you don’t tell me, I’ll find out myself” he added right before the doors closed and Coulson’s face changed from kind to concerned in a heartbeat, realization hitting him way too late to stop the blonde.

It took him about three seconds to turn around, get into Emilia’s room and lock the door.

She looked at him completely puzzled as he closed the blinds.

“Can you walk?” he asked and threw her a duffle bag with her clothes.

“What?... yes” she answered holding the bag.

“Good, then dress up quick… I’m taking you home.”

 

\---

 

He had to be fast. He knew he only had seconds before Coulson got back to see what he was up to, so he started hatching a plan while Emilia started getting dressed.

“Friday?” he talked to the gadget in his hand.

“Agent Barton, you’re quite active today. How may I assist you?”

“Yes, quite active. Look, I’m afraid I’ve been told that director Coulson’s phone has been hmmmm…. Hacked? could you please disable it? Oh! and can you run a test on elevators three and five please? I think they might be compromised too”

“Director Coulson’s phone has been disabled from all communications, should I inform the communications department of the breach?”

“No! … not yet… I’m… I’m tracking down the hacker’s location, I’ll tell you when. How are you on the elevators?” he asked again and saw Emilia having trouble dressing up, she couldn’t button her pants nor tie her shoes, so he stepped close to her and motioned to help her with it. She nodded and once that was solved he walked to the window again picking through the blinds.

“To run tests on elevators the system must be restarted completely, but they’re currently occupied. Would you like me to run the tests anyway?”

“Yes, it’s ok, just do it”

“Elevator’s system rebooting” announced Friday.

“Great” he smiled pleased and motioned Emilia to follow him out of the room. “Friday, can you spot my location?” he asked as they walked down the hall.

“Yes agent, you’re on the Infirmary, walking down hall two.”

“Yes, I am. Can you walk me to the closest garage through the weapons locker please?” He required right when they passed next to a nursing cart taking everything on top of it and handing it to Emilia to put it on the bag. To say she was clueless was an understatement, but she needed to get out of there and this was her chance to do it.

“Of course agent, sending directions to your phone now. Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“No Friday, that would be it for now. Thank you.” He finished and left the device on the closest counter and took his phone out to follow directions. “This way” he pointed and Emilia followed.

 

\--

 

They jogged their way to the weapons locker. Emilia was incredibly tired and a bit dizzy from her wound reopening and the morphine leaving her body, all of the day’s events finally passing a toll on her. Once there, Clint went straight to his quiver and bow and she sat down for a moment. Her shirt’s right collarbone with a red stain that grew bigger and bigger.

“Is there no first aid kit around?” she asked taking a gauze from the bag and putting it in between her skin and t-shirt and pressing tightly.

“Nope” Clint answered while checking his arrows “Weapons locker, not infirmary, sorry. Now pick something up. We might need it” he added motioning to the endless racks of armament.

Her eyes darted immediately to the knives section. Her very favourite weapon. Unfortunately, she had lost the ones she had left on that warehouse so she thought that resupplying herself for free wasn’t a bad idea at all.

She took as much as she could. A shoulder strap, a boot knife, a set of throwing knives, a wrist holster, a couple of tanto blades and some spear knives and put them inside the bag along with some clothing she found.

“Where are the handguns?” she asked and Clint stared at her in confusion.

“I thought you didn’t use guns” he pointed out.

“I don’t” she said “Where are they?” she repeated and Clint pointed to a locker mid-room

Once there, she took a 9mm, a couple of mags and tossed them into the bag.

She turned to face Clint and he was still staring at her, questions written all over his face.

“What?” she inquired

“Nothing” he replied shrugging “You ready?” he asked and got a single nod for an answer. He looked at his phone again and they started jogging again, this time to the nearest garage.

They got there silently and she followed Clint to the car closest to the exit, a beautiful matte black Acura NSX ready to take her out of that damn Tower. Right before getting in the car, Clint dropped his phone and crushed it with his foot.

“Okay, get in” he commanded with a big smile that Emilia returned.

As soon as they hit the street Clint asked

“Where’s home then?”


	6. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll tell you...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY FOR LENGTHY CHAPTERS! :))

Almost half an hour later, Clint was parking the car in a parking lot in Brooklyn. The ride there had been quiet and without incidents.

“Why Brooklyn?” he said while he checked his things, like he was just making small talk.

“Hm?” she replied “Why?” she was a bit surprised by the question, like she had never thought about it really “Well, the apartment it’s on top of a coffee shop, a grocery shop, a Kawasaki store; it has a great view from the rooftop, an emergency exit and it’s close to the Prospect Park and to a ton of subway stations, sooooo…. Yeah” she shrugged and scratched her forehead.

“So, for tactics?” he added.

“Yeah, you could say so” she finished and got out of the car.

Clint followed her into the small flat on Church Av. They got up to the third floor and she took a key hidden in the door frame. Very ‘Agent Salt’ like, it made him smile a bit, but that smile disappeared when he realized that she really had to live her life constantly looking over her shoulder.

The place turned out to be just what Clint had expected, a tiny apartment for someone who was in the run. Although the arrangement was different than usual. A double bed was settled in what’s supposed to be the living room and there were binoculars hanging besides every window. But besides that the whole place was tidied up and clean.

“You can put your things over there” she motioned to the bed’s side “there’s beer in the fridge, I’ll go out to buy something to eat. But first…” she added handing him a knife “I need your help”

 

She walked him to the kitchen and turned the stove on, with a pair of scissors Clint carefully cut the right strap of her tank top and exposed the – reopened – bleeding wound. That’s when he noticed the amount of scars that went all the way from the back of her neck down her back.

“On the field?” he asked while the knife was heating up in the flames and he started cleaning up the wound.

“Hm?” she stared at him confused, her head tilted a bit to the side.

“Did you get _those_ on the field?” he signed at her back with his head.

“Just some of them” she said, Clint just nodded silently in response.

“And the rest?” he insisted, she smiled at him.

“You really ask a lot of questions, Barton” she chuckled, he laughed too.

“I know… how then?” he repeated.

“You really don’t want to know” she dismissed the subject looking a bit gloomier, her smile was sad now and she kept rubbing her hands.

“I _do_ want to know; you know? I just want to understand all of _this_ ” he pointed around with the knife in his hand “But, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine” he reassured her with a smile. “Now, deep breath.”

She closed her eyes tight, held to the sides of the chair and took a deep breath. The next thing she smelled was the unmistakable and familiar scent of burnt flesh.

Clint had many mixed feelings about it all. He was – once again – really surprised with her endurance, he knew SHIELD trained fierce and deadly people, but she seemed to be pain’s closest friend; she barely flinched at the touch of the hot weapon.

He was also worried about SHIELD’s next move, considering that they had pretty much escaped from the Tower and stolen weapons and a car. Were they considered fugitives now? Should they be on the run? And most of all, he kept thinking about what she had told Coulson.

‘ _I’ll kill you before and more painfully than I have planned_ ’

Was she really planning to kill him? Would it come a day where Clint himself would have to stop her from hurting his friend? Would he stop her once he knew the truth of what happened to her?

A huge inner debate that he hoped was solved promptly and with no big incidents, or casualties.

“Do you want me to do it on your back too?” his words brought the two of them out of their own minds.

“Did the stitches popped out from the back too?” he glanced at her back and saw all the stitches intact.

“Nope” he replied “They’re still there” he added with a smile.

“Then is okay” she said returning his smile kindly. She stood up and stretched her arms as much as she could, then sighed and went on “I’m going to take a shower now, there’s some money on the counter, I know I said I’d do it but would you go downstairs and get us something to eat, please?”

“Sure, I’ll be right back” he said as he walked out the kitchen.

As soon as Clint left the apartment, she walked to her bed, grabbed a pillow, pressed it against her face and screamed at the top of her lungs. Her limbs went slack, tears and sobs making their way out as some of the pain and tension left her body. If she hadn’t been starving, she would’ve fallen asleep immediately, her body hadn’t been that sore in a long time.

She took her time in the shower, she actually heard Clint getting back, opening the fridge and taking the top off a beer. She went all over her body, over and over again, every bruise and every scar, the healed ones and the fresh ones and she welcomed them into her canvas.

< _A new story to be kept secret_ > she thought.

When she finally stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Clint was watching through the window so she quickly entered the room –  that was supposed to be the ‘bedroom’ – to get dressed.

That room had been transformed into a sort of store room, it had a bit of everything. One wall was packed with pictures, maps and some news and on the floor, dozens of books, most of them history books; in another wall a big desk full with notebooks, post-its and on top of that a white laptop, and then there was the closet wall – just a two stores shelf – beneath which she kept a duffle bag with all she needed in case she had to leave abruptly.

She left the room wearing some grey sweatpants and a black sweatshirt and drying her hair with a towel and leaving a pair of clean towels in the bed.

“You can use those to clean yourself up” she pointed out on her way to the kitchen. Clint had gotten them burgers and fries “Did you eat?” she asked when she saw only one of each.

“Yeah, sorry. You took forever in there so…” he said apologetic running a hand through the back of his head.

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m starving too” she smiled at him and put some fries on her mouth, then got a beer from the fridge and opened it hitting the top against the counter. She took a sip of it and looked at Clint that had stayed there staring at her bewildered.

“You’re an impressive kid miss Fitz” he stated taking the towels from the bed.

“Mmm... thanks?” she said covering her full mouth “Em is just fine, you know?” she added once she swallowed “Now go, I’ll get you some clean clothes”

“Alright, _Em_ ” he said on his way to the bathroom.

He took way less time than she did in the shower, but most of the time he spent there he stood wondering

< _What am I doing here?_ >

When he got out the bathroom he found himself completely alone in the apartment and saw Em’s burger half way eaten, for a second he got scared. The worst case scenario flashed in front of his eyes, but he recalled her saying she’d find him some clothes so he calmed himself.

He thought of going into the closed room next to the bathroom, but he restrained himself. Instead he sat on the bed with the towel around his waist looking at the ceiling bumping his fists together. Just waiting.

Then he saw the bag Em had taken from the Tower and decided to take a pick on what she’d gotten. He saw many knives, holsters and harnesses, but he didn’t see the 9mm he’d seen her take.

The main door opened and Em got in, holding a plastic bag. Her first sight was Clint sitting on her bed, going through her things. The smile she had on quickly disappeared.

“You lost something?” she slammed the door closed, tossed him the plastic bag and took the duffle bag from his lap throwing it into the store room.

“I didn’t, but apparently you did” he countered whilst he put a t-shirt on.

“Not of your business, Barton” she yelled from the kitchen. He went there.

“I think that if you take a gun from _my_ workplace and lose it is my goddamn business” he said clenching his jaw and pointing at her. She stared at him, then to his finger and back to him.

“Ok, first of all, just because I’m still sore I’m going to let this slip and not break your finger, don’t _ever_ point at me like that again. Who do you think you are talking to?” she snapped at him hitting her beer against the counter “And second of all and for the last time, _is.not.of.your.business_. Got it?” she sentenced turning her back on him and taking her burger once again.

“Or what?” Clint continued “you’re gonna kill me before and more painfully than you have planned?” he mocked.

“That’s it” she said slamming the burger against the plate and taking it to the store room, where she locked herself.

< _Tsss… very nice. She is the one hiding something and she gets mad? **I** should be mad_ > his head rambled while he finished dressing.

Around forty-five minutes later Em got out the room with the laptop on her hand and a bored look. Clint had entertained himself cleaning his arrows and quiver, but their earlier discussion still lingered in his mind. He was still mad about it and he didn’t hide it when he looked at her.

“We’re on the news” she pointed out “Well, you are. They’re not showing my face. Just saying someone kidnapped you” she laughed. He looked at the screen, gawping.

“That _you_ kidnapped _me_!?” he blasted “Pfff… no way” he shoved off.

“I know, right? Like, who would want to kidnap _you_? That’s just stupid” she fired back. Turning what was a battle for the truth into a battle of egos.

She was smiling, proud of herself, she’d always been good hurting others after all, and him, well, he was offended and amused, that had been a really good comeback, but it would’ve been funnier if it had been thrown to someone else.

They held each other gaze for a bit, and Clint could see she was putting up a fortress, built up with the tallest walls. A coldness that would allow no one in, ever and – incredibly enough – at the same time he could see a plea in her eyes. A wild desire to stop the chase, to tell someone what was happening. He got a < _Please don’t leave me alone_ > and a < _Don’t get in my way_ > with just one look.

With a sigh he finally decided that he wasn’t going to turn his back on her, even if he had to know about or to do things that he didn’t like. She had no one else, and he remembers what that feels like. So he returned the smile at her.

“Well, I don’t know about you” she looked away and stretched her body. “But I’m dead so, I’d like to sleep now” she added taking the laptop and placing it on the kitchen counter “This is my side” she said pointing at the left side of the bed.

“What?” Clint asked right after he put away the last arrow.

“That’s my side” Em repeated the motion.

“We’re sharing the bed?” he asked pointing at the two of them.

“Where else do you intend to sleep? Besides, if you try anything I’ll stab you so…” she shrugged and got into the bed. “Good night”

“Good night” he replied with a chuckle, still sitting at the end of the bed.

 

\--

 

Dampness, she could feel the dampness everywhere, its smell and coldness. The pain and burning feeling it caused in her nose bridge and chest every time she inhaled; like breathing under water.

The frigid touch of concrete against her face and the rest of her body, the feel of concrete against her bruised, mistreated skin and the shivers the texture sent down her spine.

The shackles and chains around her wrists, those almost skinned and numb wrists as well as the moment she thought her hands were going to fall off at any time. The utter terror she felt when she thought she would lose them.

The sound of men approaching her cell, their shouting and laughter. Readies to another day playing with her. Another day testing her humanity and will to live. They were opening her cell, she was already crying, her pulse rocketing up, horror crawling up her gut, set to endure one more day in hell. The door opened…

She woke up.

 

She jolted from her sleep and sat gasping, cold and drenched in sweat. She looked around and felt dizzy from moving so fast. She could feel the tears in the corner of her eyes. She thought the nightmares were over, she thought _those_ nightmares were over. Clearly she was wrong, her chest tight and a knot in her throat. When was it going to end?

“Are you ok?” were the words that shook her from her solitude.

She looked around and found Clint sitting in a chair by the end of the bed. She wanted to say ‘yes’ and just get back to sleep, but her chest kept getting tighter and tighter and the tears just started running down her face. It was too much, it had always been too much, but now it was worse, her body had been damaged again and the pain took her all the way back to her confinement days. She just leaned forward with her hands in her chest and sobbed.

Clint stood up immediately and wrapped her around his arms, he was so worried. There’s nothing worse than to see someone suffering and not know how to help them. All he could do was pat her back and stroke her hair. He would wait, he knew how hard it was when a burden passed a toll on you and he knew that coping with that wasn’t easy at all. Deep down he was really glad to be there right then, it broke his heart to imagine her going through all of that by herself.

Em sobbed until the sun came up, clenching at her chest at every moment. Her head was hammered from dehydration, but when Clint had offered her water she had just pulled him closer and kept wiping. Once the tears stopped she straighten herself and cleaned her face. She was a mess, her eyes swollen and her skin vivid red.

When Clint thought she was calmed enough, he got up and took some pain killers and a glass of water from the kitchen and handed them to her, she smiled weakly at him and sighed.

“Feeling better?” he asked running a hand down her back.

Em just nodded and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry” she apologized, to be honest, she was truly embarrassed from all of the situation, but at the same time she couldn’t be more grateful to not have been alone. Every time she’d gone through that alone before it had ended up bad, really bad.

“Hey, no. Don’t apologize. It’s okay” he reassured her fondly. “Do you want to take it out of your chest?” he asked, and regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. She was going to think he was pressuring her, that he didn’t care about her, but only about what had happened like some gossip lover.

But then he looked at her nodding quietly at him.

“I’ll tell you” she announced.


End file.
